


Forge the Future

by srmarybadass



Category: True Blood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmarybadass/pseuds/srmarybadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric encounters an artifact from his past, Godric makes a decision, and Lady Pamela Ravenscroft has an idiot husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forge the Future

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and published in August 2009.  
> Also this was back in the days of fandom before Pam was "Pamela Swynford de Beaufort" and was fanonically accepted as Pamela Ravenscroft.

**London, 1905**

 

"Welcome to the Victoria and Albert Museum, Mr.-?"

 

“Sparks. Godric Sparks,” Godric informed the curator of the museum, shaking his hand quickly but firmly.

 

“And you, sir?”

 

“Not sir. Eric Northman. Pleasure,” Eric greeted him cordially. He didn’t know this man’s name, nor did he care to. He didn’t want to go to the museum in the first place, but Godric loved his history.

 

“The pleasure is all mine. Enjoy the gala and the exhibits, good sirs, and good evening to you both.”

 

The two vampires exchanged a look as the curator walked off to greet another guest.

 

“Why on earth do you insist on calling yourself Godric _Sparks?_ ” Eric sighed.

 

“I think it has a rather nice ring,” Godric replied. “It sounds so…holy.”

 

Eric simply rolled his eyes, but he had put up with his maker’s odd habits for a thousand years, and this certainly wasn’t the oddest.

 

“I wish to go and have a look at the African displays,” Godric told Eric. “Why don’t you go and mingle?”

 

Eric sighed a little and nodded. He did love meeting new people, but he had been in London for three years already, and didn’t know if there was anyone new- or interesting- to meet. Still, he dutifully strolled off. Unfortunately, as he approached the Egyptian display, he bumped into a pudgy, snooty-looking gentleman, who had a lovely blonde woman on his arm.

 

“My apologies, sir,” Eric said quietly.

 

“Not sir, Lord,” the man sniffed. “Lord Winston Ravenscroft.” Behind him, the woman rolled her eyes slightly.

 

“Mr. Eric Northman. And this lovely creature would be…?”

 

“This is my wife, Pamela,”

 

Eric took her hand and kissed it gently, making sure to look up and wink as he did it. Unlike the other society ladies he had greeted in this particular fashion- which was all of them- Lady Pamela Ravenscroft did not giggle and flutter her eyelashes. Rather, she looked down at him in cool appraisal. Apparently, he passed some sort of test, because she nodded.

 

“It’s a pleasure, sir.”

 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Eric purred, letting a smidge of glamour into his deep voice. Pamela simply raised an eyebrow.

 

“Come along then, wife,” the much older man tugged at her arm. “Off to the mummies!”

 

Eric noticed both the eye-roll and the sigh, as well as the icy look she shot her husband. Deciding that he had mingled enough for one evening, Mr. Northman strolled upstairs.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Sparks was downstairs when he felt a sudden rush of emotion, with sadness at the forefront, and he went up the stairs as fast as he could without drawing attention. Two hallways later, he found his companion standing in front of an enormous case of what appeared to be Norse artifacts.

 

“Eric-?” he began, unsure as to why his child was saddened.

 

“That was my shield,” Eric whispered hoarsely. Godric stood next to the much taller man and peered at the carved wooden item in question. Eric reached out to lightly trace the rough, ancient wood.

 

“Are you sure?” Godric asked quietly.

 

“Of course I’m sure. Look here- this nick is from a raid in Svensburg. And these runes- I carved these runes myself for protection.” To the surprise of both men, a bloody tear rolled slowly down Eric’s pallid face.

 

Godric stood on his toes and gently licked away the blood, before taking Eric’s hand in his much smaller one.

 

“The best way to depart from the past is to forge a future,” Godric murmured quietly. “I’ve been thinking- perhaps it is time for us to part ways. And for you to become a maker again. Your last child died, what, a century ago?”

 

Eric nodded, remembering the anguish he had felt upon learning that Wilhelm had been killed in a fire. Then his mind sped back to the present.

 

“Wait- part ways?”

 

Godric nodded, more than a little sadly. “I am a thousand years of your past, Eric, and you need a future. I have a feeling that this century is going to be a most progressive one, and our people will have to change our ways.”

 

“Where would I even find someone to turn?” Eric muttered. “The men here only care about money and the women haven’t got a thought in their heads.”

 

“Worry about that later,” Godric informed him, once more rising to his tiptoes and encircling his powerful arms around Eric’s neck. “Now kiss me, you great bloody Viking.”

 

Eric was more than happy to comply, but unfortunately, just as things were getting heated and fangs were popping out, both men heard a voice.

 

“Oh, _Lord.”_

 

Eric and Godric whirled around to see Lady Pamela Ravenscroft standing there, holding what smelled like a very stiff drink.

 

“I didn’t realize that you were homosexuals,” Pamela mused. “All those Society daughters will be most grievously disappointed-”

 

“We’re not homosexuals,” both men chorused together.

 

Pamela raised an eyebrow. “Could have fooled me.”

 

The three stood there awkwardly for a moment before the Eric realized that his fangs were very obviously out. He drew them in as quick as he could, but the observant Pamela noticed.

 

“So you’re vampires, then,” she stated.

 

“You’re taking this all in stride,” Eric commented.

 

“I’ve had three whiskeys this evening so far,” Pamela informed him, raising her half-empty glass. “I’ve been trying to drown out my idiot husband’s conversation. Don’t worry. I won’t try to stake you two, and I’m not wearing any silver. If you’d like, you can nibble on me a little, but please don’t leave blatantly obvious marks.”

 

Godric looked at Eric. Eric looked at Godric. Both Eric and Godric looked at Pamela.

 

“Lady Ravenscroft-”

 

“Pam. Please, for the love of God, call me Pam.”

 

“Very well, Pam. How would you like to become a child of the night?” Eric proposed.

 

Pam raised an eyebrow and grinned. “How would you like to help me get rid of my idiot husband?”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

That Sunday’s edition of the _London Times_ informed the city of the disappearance of Lord Winston Ravenscroft and his wife.

 

That Sunday’s roster of train tickets showed that a Mr. Sparks had purchased a ticket on the midnight train to the south of France, while a Mr. And Mrs. Northman had purchased two to Scotland, both assuming they would never see Mr. Sparks again.

 

A hundred years later, a phone call from Dallas would shatter Eric Northman’s present, dig up his past, and shroud his future.


End file.
